Jimmy
by artigiano
Summary: Something about these bones were different.
1. Prologue

**Ah...the beginning of a fresh new fanfic! Isn't it wonderful:) **

**Anyhow, this is going to be my first story with a case. I'm not sure how it's going to turn out, but I'm hoping for the best. **

**Other than that, there's nothing new to report. I hope you like it, and please don't forget to review!**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own them. Darn. **

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Clutching her bag to her chest, she made her way down the steps quietly. The moonlight shown brightly through the window, and illuminated the pictures hanging on the wall. Jumping lightly past the one creaky step, the young auburn-haired teen pushed her way through the front door silently.

Once outside, she took a deep breath to calm herself. She was out of the house- only a little bit farther to go before she was gone. Smiling happily, she whispered the word aloud to herself, "Gone."

She took a step forward, only to stop when she saw a little boy sitting on the front steps. She went forward again, trying to see which of her foster siblings was out here so late. When she finally saw who it was, she swore under her breath. This was not something she had figured into her plans.

Stuffing her sack behind her back, she crossed the space to where the boy was sitting, and plopped herself down beside him. "Jimmy, what are you doing out here?"

The ten-year old jumped slightly when she spoke, but settled back into his place after he realized it was just her. "Hey, Tempe." He said softly as he smiled at her. Then, answering her question he said, "I'm just watching the stars."

"Ah." She returned his smile with her own, and pulled him against her. Even though he was seven years her junior, Jimmy was the only boy in the household that she got along with- even cared for. If she had ever had a younger brother- _or a brother at all,_ she thought wryly- Jimmy would be ideal. He was interested in all the things she was- especially science and the human body- and was always kind to her. And he was the only one that she allowed to call her "Tempe." That had to count for something. Basically, he was sweet all the time, and - dare she say it- she loved him.

"What are you doing?" Jimmy asked her, breaking the silence.

"Couldn't sleep," was her simple answer. She felt bad lying to him, but he couldn't know what she was about to do. It would break his heart to know that she wasn't coming back, and she wouldn't- she couldn't- be responsible for his sadness.

"Oh." He scooted even closer to her as the wind blew through the trees, and then looked at her. "I'm glad you're here Tempe. You really make this place bearable. I don't know how I'd manage without you."

Tears immediately filled her eyes; that was, she figured, the nicest thing that anyone had told her in a long time. For a response, she squeezed him tightly, and whispered in his ear. "I'm glad to be here too, Jimmy. You don't make this place half bad yourself."

Silence reigned again, until Jimmy yawned and stood up. "I'm think I'm going to turn in, Tempe." He walked to the door, and then turned around to her again. "Are you coming?"

She wheeled around to face him. "Yeah…just give me a few minutes...I like the fresh air." He nodded in understanding, then opened the door. She could hear him walk up the stairs, skillfully avoiding the same step that she had. Temperance laughed quietly to herself- he obviously came out here a lot.

She then realized that this was her chance; if she was going to leave, she had to do it now. Jimmy was gone, and no one would be the wiser; no one would even know she was gone until that later that morning. Jumping up she grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. After taking a few steps, she abruptly halted. Her head told her to go, but her heart wouldn't permit it; her leaving would tear up Jimmy.

Heaving a sigh, she twisted around to look at the house. _Just a few more steps_, she told herself. _A few more steps and I'll be free_. It was no good- she couldn't leave now without feeling the guilt of it for the rest of her life.

Before she could change her mind again, Temperance ran to the front steps and opened the door. Slipping inside, she crept back up to her room. After storing her parcel in her closet, she slipped into bed again. She would legally be adult in a little under a year, and could last in the system until then. No matter how much it pained her sometimes, she would stay.

"I did it for you, Jimmy." She whispered softly, right before falling asleep. "Only for you."

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**Weeeeellllllllllllll:) Did you like it? Huh? **

**Heehee, just please don't forget to review!**

**Charlotte**


	2. Chapter 1

**I think this is the fastest I've ever posted two consecutive chapters! Someone should erect a monument in my honour:) **

**I first wanted to thank those few people who took the time to review the last chapter. I really appreciate those who did tell me what they thought about the chapter. So thanks so much! **

**A/N: Just so you know, the quote at the beginning of the chapter (and the subsequent chapters) don't have anything to do with the story; actually they just go with the chapter number. **

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**"Life is something that everyone should try at least once." **

**-Henry J. Tillman**

"Bones!" Seeley Booth swiped his card to enter the platform, his footsteps echoing across the large room. "We've got a new case." When his partner didn't make any move to leave the bones she was examining, he continued. "And I figured that since it's getting late, we should probably get going." 

Temperance Brennan, looked up, finally seeming to hear him. "We've got a new case?" She asked, her mind stuck on Booth's first comment. When he nodded in reply, she felt herself smile; to her it felt like they hadn't had a new case for weeks. "Where is it?"

"In a small neighborhood, that's just outside Arlington Cemetery. A couple of kids were digging around in their backyard- trying to get to China, most likely- and found the skeleton. Scared them half to death, I'm betting. Anyway, the police weren't sure what to do- what with the finding being basically on the cemetery grounds, so…"

"So that's when they called the FBI. And just a wild guess, but Cullen called you, and you came here?" Brennan joked.

"Basically."

* * *

When the partners pulled up, the crime scene was still crawling with police officers and FBI agents alike. A few news vans were parked behind the crime tape, and reporters could be heard yammering on, as they were so prone to do. A large crowd had also gathered around the home, mainly consisting of who Temperance assumed were the spying neighbors. 

Booth exited the car first, stepping forward quickly to lift the tape for Temperance. Smiling her thanks, she continued on to the backyard where the action obviously was. A burst of excitement shot through her at the prospect of having a new and enticing case.

As she rounded a bend in the backyard, the skeleton could easily be seen sticking out of a hole in the ground; the skull sitting on top of the dirt; reminding her eerily of a cherry on top of a sundae. She noted that the bones were no longer a clean white, nor even a cream color; they had obviously been in the ground for a very long time, because they were a dirty brown. Overall, the crime scene was not that much different than others they had been to; and yet, for some reason, Brennan had a strange feeling about it. Almost like she knew something was…special about this body.

Meanwhile, Booth followed Temperance arrowed to the back. For a moment, he got lost in just watched her work. His mind was jarred back to the present, however, when she addressed him. "It appears to be male, ten to sixteen years old. I'll be able to give you a more accurate age when we get back to the lab." Even after working with her for as long as he had, it still amazed Booth that when looking at a body, she could discern all that information.

"From the discoloration of the bones, I would say that he has been buried here for over ten years." Brennan continued, telling Booth of her earlier observation. "I'll collect samples, and then Hodgins can give you a more exact time of burial."

Booth nodded, his mind storing what she was telling him for future use. "'Kay." He looked around the yard once more, trying to decide what he wanted to do now. "I'm going to go and talk to the boys, see if they can tell me anything else."

Brennan looked up from the skeleton, acknowledging his statement. "Okay. You know where to find me if you need anything."

Her partner smiled. "I always do."

* * *

By the time Booth dropped Temperance off at the Jeffersonian, it was hours past sunset. It had taken hours to excavate the bones carefully and completely, and at the time they were ready for transport, the crime scene was almost void of people. He had been able to gather absolutely no information from the boys who had discovered the body, and so had then- of course- been frustrated from the lack of information. After so many hours in the field, Booth was ready to go home, and crawl into bed- it seemed that his partner had other plans, however. 

"Drop me off by the front entrance- I want to start processing the bones." Brennan stated, as though it was obvious for someone to want to work at one in the morning.

"No, Bones. I'm not. I'm going to let you get your things from your office, and then I'm taking you home. You need to get some sleep."

Brennan sighed, knowing that he was right; she _should _get some sleep. But something wasn't letting her. The same feeling of excitement that she had gotten at the crime scene had returned to her. There was something different about this skeleton, something that called to her…that begged her to take a better look at it. No matter what Booth wanted her to do, she had to go and start tonight.

"Fine, I'll go home. But I have to drive myself- I'm not leaving my car here overnight." She said, deliberately leaving out that she didn't plan to go home right away. She wasn't lying to him…she just wasn't telling him the whole truth.

"You promise to go home?" Booth questioned, his suspicions rising; Bones never agreed with him that easily. "You're not going to stay here?"

Temperance shook her head, trying her best to look as though she was telling the trutht. "I promise. You're right, anyhow. I need to get some sleep if I'm going to be able to work on the bones properly."

"Okay…"

"But don't wait for me." She stated quickly, knowing Booth wasn't going to give up easily; he was just about as stubborn as she was. He was probably going to suggest next that he should follow her home, just to be safe. "I have to sign a few forms, and like you said, I have to get all my things. It could be just a little bit, and you look like you could really use to go to bed." She smiled quickly at him, and then added, "No offense."

He cracked a grin, though it didn't fully reach his eyes. "If you insist, then I suppose I'll just leave." As much as he knew he should stay with her, he just didn't have the energy to force her to his will. She was right: he really _was _tired.

"Well, then it's settled. I'll see you tomorrow?" Brennan asked, already out of the car.

"Yeah, okay." Booth called to her. "I'll see you then…" He trailed off pathetically, realizing there was no way for her to hear him. Shaking his head, he put the vehicle into drive. As he pulled away from the museum, he muttered one last word to himself. "Women."

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**Now, I know you loved that chapter _so _much and that you have a _huge _desire to click that little blue button and review:) So please, follow that urge!!! **

**Charlotte**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimier: I still don't own them, but if anyone wants to give Booth to me as a belated birthday gift, I'd be more than delighted! **

**A/N: I just want to say I'm SO sorry for not updating sooner. Life has been pretty crazy for me lately; my first year of high school started, I got into a car accident, and I have a LOT of homework (I've heard high school teachers like to give out lots of homework). So as you could probably guess that I haven't had a lot of time to write. **

**But anyway, here is the second chapter! I hope you like it, and please don't forget to review!**

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**"Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former." **

**-Albert Einstein **

Angela whistled cheerfully as she walked down the halls of the Jeffersonian; she had gotten laid last night by her most wonderful and experienced boyfriend. The things that man could do to her...

A grin spread across her face, she continued to her office. As she climbed the stairs to her office, she happened to glance down at the platform below her; there, on one of the examination tables lay a new set of bones. She stopped mid-song, wondering if they were from Limbo, or from Booth.

Skipping the trip to her own office, Angela instead continued to her friend's workplace. Knocking on the door, she pushed her way in without waiting for an answer. "Sweetie, I saw the bones…" She trailed off as she looked at Temperance's face. "You look like crap."

Brennan snorted. "Gee, thanks. It's so lovely to see you too."

Angela ignored the jibe. "Did you sleep last night?"

"Not really. I didn't get home until about four."

"What time did you get to work?"

"About six."

"Why in the world did you only sleep for _two _hours?" The artist asked in exasperation.

"The bones got here late. I stayed up to work on them, and then I just…lost track of time."

In response, Angela rolled her eyes. "I take it the bones are from Booth, then?"

Temperance nodded, a small yawn escaping her lips. "Found them in Virginia, in the backyard of some family. Anyway, I should have the skull for you in a bit."

"Okay. Are you sure you're okay, Sweetie? You really don't look to good."

The doctor turned away to hide her face, and then mumbled. "I haven't been sleeping well." Angela was silent, waiting for Brennan to continue. "I've been having strange dreams a lot this week."

Angela was perplexed; her friend never complained of having bizarre dreams. "About what?"

Another pause and a wry smile. "My last foster home; so I guess you could say they're nightmares."

"Oh Sweetie," she walked over to sit on the plush couch, "the system wasn't _that _bad, was it?"

"Most times it was. You never really belong anywhere, never have someone that completely understands you, and you don't have parents that will pay attention only to you. " She stopped for a second in memory. "But these aren't exactly bad dreams. I'm actually having dreams about Jimmy." When Angela didn't say anything, Temperance continued. "Have I told you about Jimmy?"

The artist shook her head. "No…"

"Jimmy was seven years younger than me, and lived the McPherson's- my last foster family before I got out- when I was there for six months. He was so sweet, and I took an instant liking to him. I was the oldest kid there, and so I didn't really have any friends; he and I bonded because he didn't either, and he really was quite intelligent." She had to take a deep breath, for she had started to talk very fast. "He actually stopped me from running away when I was planning to- and it's good that he did. The next week my grandfather took me out."

"I didn't know you had ever tried to run."

"I didn't think it was worth mentioning." Brennan said shortly, and then there was silence between them Finally Angela broke the awkward tension.

"Why do you think you're dreaming of him now?"

"I have no clue…" Temperance said wearily. "I never talked to him after I got out- and haven't really thought of him since."

"Then why-"

She cut her off with a voice that showed restrained frustration. "I don't know!"

Angela looked at her calmly. "You need some sleep, I think. Maybe you should go home."

At this, Temperance shook her head vehemently. "No, I need-"

"-to keep working. I get it. Have Zack bring me the skull when you're done." With that, Angela got up, and left Temperance to her own devices.

* * *

Dr. Brennan spent the rest of the morning working on the remains. When she was finished, she sent the skull to Angela through Zack, as she had been asked. Retiring to her office, she sat in the chair behind her desk, and dozed slightly. 

Suddenly her phone rang, waking her rather rudely. Blinking, she tried to shake the sleep away as she answered the offensive ringing object. "Dr. Brennan."

"Hon, I've got the face. If you want to call Booth, I'd be glad to show it to both of you."

She nodded, although the artist on the other end couldn't see her. "Okay, I'll call right now."

"Thanks Bren. I figure it's easier to kill two birds with one stone, and get it over with…" Angela trailed off, as she realized her friend was no longer on the line. Shaking her head, she put the phone back in its cradle; she hated when Temperance did that.

* * *

Back at the FBI building Booth, too, was asleep in his office chair. He had gotten home _so _late last night, and had trouble falling asleep. He had just managed to get comfortable in his chair, and _finally _catch a bit of rest when his cell phone started jingling. 

"'Ello?" He muttered, almost incoherently.

"It's Brennan. Angela's got the face, and wants you over here."

"Sure thing." Holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder, he pulled on his coat and grabbed his keys. "I'll be right there."

"Whenever you get here is fine…I've got plenty of things to keep me occupied."

Booth picked up on the weariness on her voice, and felt a twinge of concern. "You okay, Bones?"

"Fine." Her response was short, and so he figured that she didn't want to talk about it.

"Okay. Well, if you want to talk about it…" He trailed off, knowing that she would open up to him if she wanted. He just hoped she would.

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**Any and all reviews will be used to boost my self-esteem, so they go to a good cause:) **

**Charlotte**


	4. Chapter 3

**Okay, so chapter three is FINALLY here. I just want to apologize right now for taking so long to update the story. Life has been really crazy for me since school started this year. I've been doing a musical, and things have been REALLY crazy. **

**Anyway, I hope that you like it, and please don't forget to review! I promise the next chapter will come a LOT sooner!**

* * *

**"There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics."**

**- Benjamin Disraeli**

"How long have you been dreaming about Jimmy?" Angela asked Temperance, returning to their earlier discussion while they waited for Booth to arrive.

"About a week," The doctor was sitting on Angela's couch, head in her hands, looking utterly exhausted. Angela was concerned; her friend usually never looked that emotionally drained. The last time she had looked like this was when her mother's bones had been discovered, and her whole world unraveled. To the artist, it didn't make sense that she should be this upset, for they didn't even know who the set of bones belonged to yet.

"Have you told Booth about them? Or Dr. Sweets? He might have an idea as to why this is happening."

Brennan didn' even have enough life in her to tell Angela that she didn't believe in Dr. Sweets' psychology. "No, I haven't told anyone but you."

"Sweetie, I-" Angela stopped talked as she caught sight of the FBI agent approaching her office. "Booth is here. Promise me you'll talk to him, though – he deserves to know why his partner is pulling away from him."

* * *

As soon as Booth entered Angela's office, both women stopped talking; leading him to believe that they were either talking about him, or something they didn't want him to know. From Bones' body language, it seemed to be the latter. He decided not to breach the subject now, and so instead walked toward the Angelator. "Bones said you had a face for me?" 

"Yeah," Angela grabbed her board, tapped a few things, and the machine whirled to life. A few more clicks, and a face appeared. Brennan looked up as she heard the buzz of the Angelator, and couldn't help but gasp as she laid eyes on the face.

Booth threw a look over his shoulder at his partner. _Not again,_ he thought. _She doesn't deserve the fate of having to recognize another face. _"Do you know him, Bones?"

She nodded, her eyes distant. "Is it him?" Angela asked gently. Brennan shook her head, but didn't speak as to clue Booth in on who _he _was.

Resisting the urge to demand who this person was, he directed his attention once more to Bones. "You have a name?"

Brennan nodded once again. "Barry Finkel. I was in the system with him for almost a year."

Angela couldn't help but let out the breath she had been holding. She was so certain that because of Temperance's dreams, these bones would belong to Jimmy; it had surely been a sign, telling Brennan to confront her past. But she was obviously wrong. Although the bones did have something to do with Brennan's days in the system, it wasn't the boy for which the doctor cared.

Angela was brought back to the present as she heard Booth question his partner. "How old was Barry when you saw him last?"

"About thirteen. He stayed at one of my houses when I was first in foster care. Everybody called him 'The Rat' because he would tattle on anyone for anything. He didn't really have any friends, and people couldn't stand being around him. I don't think he had any friends the entire time he was at that house. Like I said, he stayed for almost a year, and then he just left. I always assumed he was just assigned a new family."

The artist couldn't help but ask her question. "Was this at the McPherson's?"

Temperance shot Angela a sharp look, right as Booth asked, "Who were the McPhersons?"

Silence descended as Angela stared at her friend, mouthing _tell him_. Finally, to break the tension, the artist decided to leave. "I'm going for coffee. I'll bring you something back."

After Angela exited, Booth went over to sit by Temperance on the couch. "Is there something you want to talk about, Bones?" Without looking at him, Brennan nodded.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Booth asked once Temperance had retold him the same tale she told Angela. 

"Because…" She searched for the right words. "Talking about my years in the system brings back a lot of difficult memories, and it makes me feel weak. Weak, because those memories still affect me as much as it did when I lived through it; and I _hate _being weak."

He rubbed circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. At some point during the story he had grabbed her hand to hold; now he found that he didn't want to let go. "But you told Angela."

A small smile graced Brennan's face. "Angela has seen me be weak before."

"So have I." Immediately, both of their minds jumped to McVicar's farm, when she had cried in his arms.

"But it's different with Angela."

"Why?" Booth questioned gently.

Temperance took a deep breath. She didn't really want to go into this topic right now, but it seemed that she really didn't have a choice. "I don't care about looking pathetic in front of Angela. She's seen me at my worst, talked me through some of my hardest times, and watched me break down time after time. I don't ever feel the need to be strong in front of her or to…to impress her." Color flooded to her cheeks, and she felt like a silly school girl with a crush, but it was the truth. She had the need to appear tough and independent in front of Booth, even when she didn't feel like it. It was dumb, and she hated it. Sure, she was attracted to Booth, but he shouldn't have this effect on her. He was just another friend, like Angela.

And just like a friend would, Booth didn't say anything about her flaming cheeks; instead he was trying not to jump up and down with joy at what she had just said. "You want to impress me?"

Temperance pulled away from him slightly, and said brusquely, "Look, you don't need to make a big deal of it. It's only natural for a female to want to impress a finely structured male and-"

Booth cut her off by placing a finger over her lips. "You could just say that you think I'm hot, Bones." Brennan started to have protest, but Booth stopped her. "But it's okay…because I feel the same way."

* * *

Angela fully expected to return from her coffee break to see Booth and Brennan going at it in her office. What she found was the complete opposite: they were sitting on the couch together, holding hands. _Brennan must have told him_, she thought to herself. 

To give them some privacy, she decided to go and find Hod gins. It was unlike her to not spy on them, but she figured they had gotten along very well without her, and she did't want to risk jinxing it by her presence.

Just as she was turning, however, she caught Booth moving out of the corner of her eye. Slowly, she moved closer, watching as Booth placed a finger over Brennan's lips. _Kiss her! _Angela shouted in her head, but it was no use. Brennan just smiled, and turned away with a blush.

"Fine." Angela grumbled. "Don't kiss her. See if I care." She turned on her heel and started to walk away. "But I'll get you two together, mark my words." With one last look over her shoulder at the pair, she wandered off to find her boyfriend; who would, no doubt, do some kissing of his own.

* * *

**Well, I hope you remembered the story, and that you liked the chapter! Please don't forget to review!**

**Charlotte**


	5. Chapter 4

**Okay, well here we are. Another (very) long awaited chapter of _Jimmy_. Once again, I apologize for taking so long to update. I recently switched to a MacBook, and have been in the process of switching over all my documents. AND I've been on holiday, so I've been lazy. ;) But anyway, here it is, and I hope that you enjoy it! Please don't forget to review!**

* * *

They had reached a stalemate. There was no more information that could be gathered from Barry's file – in fact, the whole thing was only a few sheets of paper, and it just reiterated everything Brennan had already told Booth. _Barry has problems getting along with the other children, _one social worker wrote. _He seems to be isolated, and lonely_ wrote another. One set of foster parents even wrote a note to their social worker asking for Barry to be placed in a different home: _He doesn't get along with any of the kids because he is constantly spying and tattling on them – it would be beneficial for the environment of our home if Barry was moved elsewhere. _

It was made worse by the fact that there was nothing that could be gained from the bones. The only soil on the body was generic gardening soil that could be bought and found anywhere, which also gave them nothing. However, the fact that there was more than one type of soil in the bones indicated that the body had been dug up from its original grave, and moved to the location in which it was found.

But they had nothing. It was horrible, waiting every day for any sort of new details on the case to dribble in. It felt like months to Brennan, even though it had only been a few weeks since they had discovered the remains. She was ruminating over their lack of leads when her partner knocked on her office door, takeout in hand. "You've barely left your office these past few days, and I don't think you've eaten a proper meal." He looked down at the bag in his hand. "Well, I don't know if really counts as a _proper _meal, but it's still something to eat. And after dinner, I'll tell you the plan."

She looked up at him. "Plan?"

"Yes," Booth looked down at his partner indignantly. "You think I'm just going to let you wither away in the little office, simply waiting for something to happen?"

"Well, no. I just didn't think there was anything that we could."

Booth shook his head, with a slight smile on his face. "You underestimate me," he said, while distributing the food. "But we'll eat and then I'll inform you of my brilliant plan."

They ate in relative silence, only the sounds of the lab breaking the quiet. When Temperance had finished her meal – which truly was the best thing she had consumed for a while – she looked expectantly at her partner. When he just returned her gaze, and continued chewing thoughtfully, she spoke up. "I'm done."

He grinned, and stretched out lazily on the sofa. "I see that. I, however, still have food to eat. I said that I would tell you when we were done eating – 'we' being _both _of us." Brennan didn't reply, instead choosing to cross her arms under her chest, and glare at him.

Finally, Booth sighed in contentment, and started to clean up. When everything was to his satisfaction, he turned to face Brennan. "So you ready to hear it?" She didn't do anything but look at him with an expression that told him everything. "Right. So I think what we should do is go to Chicago, and see what we can turn up there. None of the social workers that Barry had still work there, and I've had a hard time contacting any of his foster families. I think if we were to go there, we could question the people who knew Barry the most."

As Booth had been speaking, Brennan's face had gone from annoyed, to thoughtful, to hopeful. "That might work." She nodded her head. "Actually, that's a rather good plan. It would be easier to get in touch with people in Chicago than here…yes, I can see the logic in going there…" She trailed off, and Booth could see the wheels turning in her mind. He knew that he was going to lose her to her musings soon, so he hurried to get out what he wanted to say.

"I've booked the tickets for tomorrow afternoon. I'll pick you up at two, and the flight leaves at three-thirty. Is that okay?"

Brennan nodded. "Sure. I'll see you then."

* * *

Booth looked over at his partner, watching her clutch her armrest so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. Reaching over, he placed his fingers over hers, uncurling them the best he could. "Are you going to be okay, Bones?"

She nodded, still somewhat uncertain. "Yes. I just haven't been to Chicago for a while, and it brings back some rather unpleasant memories. And I _hate _flying."

He brought her fingers – still intertwined in his – up, and gently pressed them to his lips. "It's going to be okay. I promise. I'm going to be here, and whenever you just need someone to talk to, I'm here."

Her lips curled into a small smile, and she felt a blush colour her cheeks. Booth had never touched her like that before, no matter how many times she had sometimes dreamed of it. "Thank you." She murmured quietly.

She sat back in her seat, feeling slightly more comfortable than she had before. Now, all that was left was to face feelings she hadn't in more than fifteen years.

* * *

The plane touched down, waking the famous Dr. Brennan from a sleep she never thought she'd slip into. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, looking to see Booth undoing his seat belt. "You're supposed to wait to do that until the sign clicks off." She remarked dryly, startling her partner in the process; who still thought she was asleep.

"Whoa, Bones, give me some warning next time. For the past three hours you've been dead to the world. And in answer to your question, we're on the ground. What good is my seat belt now? A seat belt is not going to save me if another plane lands on us, and since we're not going to hit any turbulence, I'll be fine."

Brennan couldn't argue with his logic, so she just gave Booth a tired smile, and undid her own seat belt. She stretched her arms above her head, trying to get out the kinks in her shoulders, and make herself wake up a little bit more.

And then they were at the gate. Booth stood up quickly to retrieve their bags, but Brennan stayed where she was. She both wanted to exit and stay on the plane forever. Part of her just wanted to get this case solved, and put behind her; while the other (and larger) part of her simply wanted to go home, and never open these doors to her past. Booth seemed to understand what she was feeling, and let the other passengers file past them, until they were the last ones.

"Come on, Bones." Booth pulled her up. "They have to clean the plane before it can take off again, and somehow I don't think the FAA will hold it; even for a celebrity author." He offered her his hand and a smile.

Temperance nodded, and followed him off and through O'Hara. Once again, a feeling of apprehension settled in the put of her stomach. By coming back here, after so many years, how many cans of worms was she going to open?

**Sorry if it was a tad bit short, but more will be coming VERY soon, and the story will move along a lot more. I wanted to say thanks for all of the readers out here who have stuck with me, and have kept reading - even through the slow updates. You guys rock! And PLEASE don't forget to leave a review. :) **

**Charlotte **


	6. Chapter 5

**I think I deserve an award - I actually updated twice in the same month! It's amazing what free time during your vacation can do for your writing. **

**A/N: Of course, I don't own them, although I would love to. If anyone wants to give them to me for a gift, I would gladly accept. :) **

* * *

They started by going to talk to Mr. and Mrs. McPherson, Barry's last foster family – Brennan's last foster family as well.

The family lived in the same house, and old Victorian style home that sat on the edge of town. Temperance looked at the steps as Booth pulled up, remembering the night she had contemplated running away, only to be stopped by Jimmy. _Whatever happened to you? _She thought, wishing not for the first time that she had all the answers.

The pair climbed the steps to the house, walking on the same porch Temperance had son on with Jimmy. Booth rang the doorbell, and waited for someone to answer. After they waited for a few seconds, a little girl opened the door. She looked at Booth and Brennan, suspicion rooted deep in her dark eyes.

"Hi Sweetie," Brennan said as she kneeled down, placing her hands on the knees "What's your name?"

The girl took the braid she had been chewing out of her mouth, and then answered. "Madeline."

"That's a very pretty name, Madeline. Can you tell me where Ms. McPherson is?"

The little girl nodded slowly. "Who are you taking this time?"

Brennan smiled kindly at the girl, all the while feeling her heart break a little. She remembered those days, always wondering which of her friends was going to leave when the social workers came around. "We're not social workers, Madeline. My name is Temperance Brennan, and this is my friend. His name is Seeley Booth. We work for the FBI – have you ever heard of it?"

Madeline shook her head, looking a little more trusting after finding out who they were. "No."

"Well, it's a place where people try to solve mysteries and crimes. And a long time ago, when I lived here, a crime was committed."

"Like someone stole something?"

"Kind of, " Brennan replied, still using a very gentle tone. "And to figure out who the bad guy is, we have to talk to Ms. McPherson, because she can help us. Do you understand?"

Madeline nodded, and opened the door wider, thus allowing the partners to come inside. "Mary!" Madeline – who Brennan deduced could be no more than five years old – yelled loudly. The shout echoed through the large house, followed closely by a matching shout of "Coming!"

The voice sounded exactly the same as she remembered, quite specifically when it was used to yell at her. Mary McPherson was very strict, but still a good guardian. She never really showed her affection plainly, but Brennan always knew that she cared about the kids she took in, and didn't just do it for the money; even if sometimes her way of showing it was through her yelling.

Then suddenly, she was running down the stairs, obviously thinking there was some new emergency to take care of. Much like her voice, Mary's appearance had not changed much, except for the grey hair. "What's going…" She trailed off, as she noticed Brennan and Booth for the first time.

Booth flashed his badge. "FBI, ma'am. My name is Special Agent Seeley Booth, and this is my partner –"

"Temperance Brennan." Mary finished for him. "Yes I know. You haven't changed a bit, Tempe." She remarked, unconsciously reverting back to the Temperance's old nickname.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you, Mary." Brennan offered a small grin. "How are you? I see you're still housing kids."

Mary looked behind her, to the backyard, where three children were playing. "It's all that keeps me going sometimes."

Booth cleared his throat, breaking up the reunion, and Temperance nodded for Booth to start. "Mary, we have some questions for you and your husband…"

"Phil. But he's my ex-husband. We divorced fourteen years ago, and he doesn't live here anymore." Mary looked around, and saw that Madeline was still in the room, hiding in a corner; but still listening quite intently. "Please, let's take this elsewhere." She led them into the living room, away from little ears, and got to the point. "What is this about, Agent Booth?"

"We recently discovered the remains of a child in Arlington a few weeks ago. The remains were identified to be Barry Finkel. He was one of your foster children."

It wasn't a question, more of a statement. "Yes," Mary replied, her voice sounding distant, as if she was trying to place exactly who Barry was. She looked back up and the agent and the anthropologist as she finally remembered him. "He stayed her for almost a year, if I recall correctly. Yes, I remember him. He was quite petite, with red hair – and he was here with you, Temperance."

Brennan nodded in agreement, as Booth asked his next question. "Did Barry have any particular problems with any of the other children?"

At this, Mary laughed. "Of course! As you can tell from his file – which I'm sure you've read – Barry wasn't well liked by any of his peers, and a few of his previous foster parents. He was a bit of a tattle-tale, which never endeared him to the other kids, because they felt they couldn't trust him. I think he mostly did it for attention; goodness knows foster child are starved for attention, even at the best homes. But he didn't really have large problems with any of the children – with the exception of James Tiller."

"Jimmy?" Brennan sat forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. "I don't remember Barry and Jimmy fighting much."

"It started before you got here," Mary said. "They would have all-out brawls, not necessarily always started by Barry. Things settled down when Steven James came here. He was a cute little boy, and was a buffer between Barry and James – mostly because there was finally another boy their age around. That's probably why you don't remember them fighting much – Steven was here with you also, and like I said, they didn't fight as much then. But Steven was adopted after a few months, and then things got bad again. Come to think of it," Mary furrowed her brow, obviously trying to remember something important, "they boys had a very big fight the day before Barry left."

"Barry made a notation on his pad. "Barry left? Just like that? He didn't get placed in a new home?"

Mary shook her head. "Barry ran away. A note was found in his room, saying that he had decided to leave and start living his own life. I figured he couldn't get very far, seeing as he was only ten, but he was never found in town."

"I take it you called the cops?" Booth asked.

"Of course!" Mary replied, her anger flaring just a little at the insinuation that she didn't take proper care of her foster kids. "I run a good home, and make sure that all my kids are safe. I was worried sick about Barry, so after I searched around the house for him, I called the police. They searched for over a week, but eventually gave up. They wrote it off as a foster child simply running away. It does happen quite often, you know."

"Thank you, Ms. McPherson. Do you know of any way that we could get in contact with your ex-husband?"

Mary shook her head. "I haven't talked to Phil since the divorce. I think he moved out west, but I'm not sure."

"Can I ask why you divorced?" Brennan asked, knowing that it was probably too personal of question, but wanting answers anyway. And besides, they'd always seemed like such a loving couple.

But Mary didn't seem to mind answering the question, personal or not. She gave a sad smile and was about to respond, when Booth's phone rang. He excused himself, and then Mary answered. "We had been growing apart for a long time, and had simply held it together for the children. After Barry left, things just deteriorated further. He accused me of not keeping a good enough eye on the children, especially Barry; whom we both knew had problems. And he wasn't exactly a joy to live with. We fought constantly – not in front of the children, of course – and things just fell apart at the seams. I think he was mostly afraid of losing the children, and took that fear out on me; losing Barry just made that fear more of a reality. Eventually, things reached a breaking point, and Phil asked for a divorce."

"Oh." She didn't know exactly what to say; so settled for, "I'm very sorry." A slightly awkward silence descended until one of Mary's foster children came into the room crying.

"I fell and hurt my head!" The young boy sobbed, and Mary immediately went to comfort him.

"I have to take care of him," Mary said to Temperance over her shoulder. "You can see yourself out?" Brennan nodded, gave the woman a smile, and went to find Booth.

* * *

Temperance's partner was leaning against their rented car, just finishing his call. "Okay, thanks." He flipped his phone shut, and then opened the door for his Bones. "That was my tech, O'Leary, at the bureau. He said that they finally tracked down the previous owner of the house – or rather, the son of him. The guy that owned it was Martin Davis, and he owned the house from 1973 to 2000, but died in 1991. The house sat empty for those nine years, because it wasn't a real great neighborhood and the kids couldn't sell it. Finally, the son renovated it, and the family we met at the crime scene bought it in 2001."

"But Hodgins established the body had most likely been reburied in 1993."

"Well, then somebody probably squatted in it, and brought the body with them so it wouldn't be found. O'Leary said when he called the son, the kid said he didn't stop by the house hardly at all during the time it was empty; so he had no idea if someone was living in it. He did say that the son mentioned finding some food rappers there one time, but didn't think anything of it."

Brennan sighed. "It's a dead end."

Booth agreed, but instead of saying so, just took her hand and squeezed it. "Don't worry Bones, we'll catch the guy. Let's go talk to Barry's social worker to see if they know anything else about the kid."

* * *

It turned out that Barry's social worker had retired six years ago, and all his cases – past and present – had been given over to another social worker, who had quit eighteen months ago. Those cases were than given to someone else, but the secretary at CPS seemed either loathe or unable to figure out whom it was.

"Let's see," the woman helping Booth and Brennan mused. "Julien Kramer was the orginal social worker for Barry Finkel. When he retired all his case files went to Shirley Douglas. When Ms. Douglas quit, the cases went to…" She typed something slowly into the computer, indicating that she really was unable to find the information. Finally she found what she was looking for. "Ah, here we go. It looks like the cases finally ended up being given to Joshua Avery."

Booth smiled kindly at the woman, trying to hide his impatience. "Any chance Mr. Avery is working today?"

"I can call up to his office to see if he's in." The assistant grabbed her phone, dialed a few numbers, and had a quick conversation. "He said he'd be down in a few minutes. Is there anything else I can do for you, Special Agent Booth?" She asked, her tone flirtatious; obviously unaware that her inability to do anything quickly was driving Booth insane.

But annoyed or not, Booth had one more thing to ask her. "Yes there is," Booth opened his notepad. "Can you tell me what happened to Steven James? He was at the same home with Barry. I know that I technically need a warrant to see someone's information, but I thought maybe you could just help me." He knew it was a long shot, but he figured he would play on her obvious attraction to him.

"Well, just this once." The woman typed the name into the computer. "Steven James also had Mr. Kramer for a social worker." Her eyes scanned the computer screen. "He was adopted in 1992 by the Anderson family." She then frowned. "But a few months after the adoption, the whole family was killed in a car accident. Very tragic." She turned her attention back to Booth and Brennan, but her eyes stayed glued to Booth. "Is that all?"

Brennan answered this time. "No, we'll wait for Mr. Avery over there." She indicated some chairs across the lobby.

The pair had just said down, when a man walked into the lobby. He spotted Seeley and Temperance, and made his way toward them. "Hi, I'm Joshua Avery. Carly," Avery nodded toward the receptionist, "said that you needed to…" He stopped as he finally recognized Temperance, apparently stunned to see a celebrity.

But he wasn't quite as stunned as Brennan. For although he was older, Brennan recognized him right away – name change and all.

"Jimmy?"

* * *

**Ah, cliffhangers! Don't you love them? Anyway, I hope that the chapter was good; and PLEASE don't forget to review because they make me so happy. :) **

**Oh, and I have the next chapter written out, so I'll have it up in the next few days (or when I can next get internet connection). **

**Charlotte **


	7. Chapter 6

**And here we are, another chapter. I'm only seeing maybe three or four more, so we're almost to the end. **

**Nope, they aren't mine yet. ;)  
**

* * *

  


Jimmy's – or Joshua's, depending on who you talked to – eyes opened wide for a second, before he regained his composure. "It's Josh, Joshua really, but I can see how you can get confused. They both start with 'j' after all, and Carly isn't always the easiest to understand."

Brennan's mind was blank with shock, and while she heard the man's explanation, she couldn't believe it. She _knew_ that the man standing before her was her childhood friend, not whoever he was claiming to be now. She was also aware of Jimmy/Josh and Booth looking at her oddly, for she could feel their gazes on her face; but she couldn't meet either one of their eyes. She knew what Booth was thinking – that she was breaking, that the stress of her past and the case was finally getting to her.

"Why don't we go and talk in my office, Agent Booth. Carly said that you had some questions about an old cause of Julian's" The man whom Temperance was convinced was Jimmy led them through the building to an office at the back. Once they were seated, he spoke again. "Who exactly were you wondering about?"

"Well, we discovered the remains of Barry Finkel in Virginia a few weeks ago. The file was your office sent to the FBI was very sparse, and held no real information." Booth started. "We wanted to talk to Barry's original social worker to see if he had any additional information. Perhaps you can tell us more, Mr. Avery?"

Avery nodded thoughtfully. "I studied under Julian for a while when I first started working here – he really showed me the ropes. He talked of Barry sometimes. He always thought of Barry as the kid he couldn't help. He really connected to the kids under his care, especially Barry. He always felt bad for the kid, because his parents died when he was very young, and never had a true family. Julian felt horrible that they could never find Barry after he ran away, and that he never got the chane to have a real home."

"So that was it?" Booth asked skeptically. "He just felt sorry for him? He really liked him? If Julian liked him so much, why didn't he visit him more? I checked the file, and he only made notes about his visits about once a month – the mandatory number of visits. He never just checked in, to see if Barry was okay, at least not according to the file. What aren't you telling me?"

Avery sighed. "The truth is, Julian Kramer was a dick. I don't like talking bad about the dead, so I was just trying to be nice so that people don't remember him as the man that didn't give a shit. He just honestly didn't. Care, I mean, about the kids. He just came in every day, did his thing, and then left as soon as he could. But what I said about Barry is true. I think he's the only kid that Julian ever felt bad about, and ever gave a little bit of notice to."

Booth nodded. It really didn't surprise him; he didn't doubt that there were many social workers that had the same attitude as Kramer. This thought saddened him, and was just about to comment on it when his partner spoke for the first time.

"Did Kramer ever mention any problems Barry had with anyone at the foster home?" Temperance had finally convinced herself that she had just mistaken Avery for an older looking Jimmy, simply because the dreams she had been having about the boy were affecting her judgment. The man was obviously who he said. However, her newfound certainty was shaken a little when Avery paled at the question.

"T-there was one boy." He stuttered slightly before regaining his composure. "His name started with a _J,_ if I recall correctly. He lived at the same foster house as Barry, right before Barry ran away. I know that his kid and Barry had some pretty big fights, but that's all I know."

Booth and Brennan stood up at the same time, both realizing that they weren't going to get anything else out of the man. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Avery." Booth said. "If you remember anything else, give me a call." He handed Avery his card, and then the partners walked out of the office together.

* * *

Later that night at their hotel, Booth and Brennan were going over what they knew. They were sitting on Booth's bed, files and pictures spread out between them. "So we know that Barry died in 1992, and was moved to the house most likely sometime in 1993." Booth started.

"And that whoever lived there while it was empty is most likely the killer, because they probably brought the body with them." Brennan continued.

"Barry 'ran away' after having a big fight with Jimmy, and shortly after Phil McPherson left his wife."

"But we don't know where Jimmy or Phil are, and Barry's original social worker is dead."

"We also know that Jimmy and Barry stopped fighting when Steven showed up, and the fights started again when Steven got adopted. This could have been because there was a buffer between them, like Mary said, or for another reason." Booth sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. "But we can't figure out why because Stevie died in a car crash with his new family. The secretary was right – that is pretty tragic."

Temperance sighed too. "We have nothing. We have more dead witnesses than live ones, suspects who have disappeared, and no one left to question."

Booth couldn't help himself, and chuckled a little. "Wonderful." They sat in quiet for a few moments before the FBI agent continued. "I'll call the tech guys later to see what they found on Phil McPherson, and have them see what they can dig up on Jimmy." He paused again, and then asked cautiously, "What happened today?"

Temperance didn't have to ask him to clarify. She wanted to avoid the issue, but knew that Booth would drag the answer out of her eventually. She mostly just didn't want to answer for fear of seeming weak, and not appearing to be at the top of her game. She didn't want her partner to think that she wasn't doing her job properly. Finally though, she decided that she should just tell him, and hope that he think any less of her. "When Avery walked in, I was sure that it was Jimmy. He looked so similar, even had a dimple in the same place Jimmy did. But it's probably just because I've been dreaming about him, and I'm sure I'm wrong."

"You never know." Booth said quietly. "It's possible you're right. I noticed that I few times when you were talking to him that he seemed quite nervous. I'll also have the techs look for something on Joe Avery. Until then, I guess the only thing we can do is wait."

* * *

**Sorry that it's so short - I promise there will be more next time! Oh, and please don't forget to leave a review!**

**Charlotte**


	8. Chapter 7

**Here we are at the next chapter - just in time for a post-Thanksgiving gift! ;) **

**Unfortunately, I still don't own them. But maybe if I beg enough, I'll get Booth for Christmas. :D  
**

* * *

As it turned out, they didn't have to wait very long. It was early in the morning when Booth's phone rang, waking him up. "'Ello?" Booth mumbled.

"Booth, it's Charlie. I've got something you might want to hear."

The FBI agent was immediately more awake. He grabbed the pad from the nightstand. "Go ahead."

"Well, turns out Joe Avery was both in January 1982, and died the same year. He then reappeared in 1995; and your boy Jimmy fell off the grid in May of '94. Personally, I think they are one and the same."

Booth laughed. "Agreed. Anything on McPherson?"

"Still looking. From what I found, the ex-wife was right and he moved out west for a period of time. I managed to track him back to Chicago, but after that I can't find anything. I'll keep looking though."

"Thanks, Charlie." Booth snapped his phone shut, and rolled over to look at the clock. 4:27. He rolled back over, plumped up his pillows, and settled in. He could wait to tell Brennan until he had slept a little more.

* * *

"You were right." Booth said over breakfast that morning.

"About?" Even though she posed the question, Brennan sounded unsurprised.

"About Jimmy – or Joshua. At least, you're most likely right." He smiled at her as he took a sip of his coffee, and then relayed what Charlie had found. "As Charlie put it, they're probably one and the same."

"Really ?" Temperance looked up, a glimmer in her eyes. Just this little piece of knowledge restored her faith in herself a little bit, and made her feel like she wasn't quite as big of idiot.

"Yeah. So I'm thinking we haul his ass in and question him for a good, long time."

* * *

Brennan stood behind the one-way mirror in the Chicago field office interrogation room. Joshua Avery was seated inside, looking quite nervous, with Booth seated calmly across from him. The social worker gave a small jump when Booth broke the silence. "So Joshua – or should I call you James Tiller?"

Avery turned a little pale, but otherwise showed no change in demeanor. "I'm sorry? I don't know anybody named James Tiller."

"Right," Booth said, leaning back in his chair. "Can you explain to me how James – aka Jimmy – Tiller ceased to exist after May 1994?"

"I –I don't know," Avery stammered. "Like I said, I don't even know who it is."

"Then can you share how Joshua Avery _died_ in 1982? And then, in 1995 _poof!_ Joshua Avery is suddenly alive again. So that means that either the hospital and family of Joshua Avery were mistaken, and their son _didn't _die – which seems highly unlikely to me – or you stole that identity in 1995 to make James Tiller disappear. Care to explain that?"

Avery shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, really."

"I just don't believe you, Avery. Now we know that Jimmy was a smart kid, so it's not like he couldn't figure out how to use someone else's identity. We also know that James needed to disappear – after all, he killed Barry Finkel and people were starting to get suspicious. An intelligent boy like Jimmy knew that the only way to start over was to be someone else. And who better to choose than someone who was your own age?" Booth paused, and let Avery mull that over. "In reality, I guess we don't really need you to explain that. I guess the only thing we really need is to know why you killed Barry."

"I didn't," Avery murmured quietly. "I'll admit it, I am really James Tiller. I'll admit to stealing Josh's identity. But I didn't kill him."

He stood up, and walked around to stand right behind Avery. Placing both hands on the table, Booth leaned in and got right up in the social worker's face. "You didn't? We know that you two fought all the time, and we know that the night before Barry was killed you two had an especially big fight! So loud that even now – more than a decade later – your foster mom _still _remembers it! And you're going to sit here and tell me that you didn't kill him?" Booth hissed at the man.

"I didn't!"

"That's not what it looks like to me."

"Listen, it's not what you think. I – I know how it looks, but you've got to believe me. I didn't kill Barry. It's true we fought, but I honestly didn't hurt him." Booth just continued to stand over him and glare, until finally the man broke down. "Barry and I didn't fight because we were enemies. We fought so that we could get sent to timeout."

Booth raised his eyes. "Timeout?"

"At the McPherson's house, when you got in trouble – for whatever reason – you had to go to timeout. The bigger the offense, the longer the time you had to spend in timeout. Mrs. McPherson would lock the door, so that whoever was being punished wouldn't sneak out. She would moniter you of course, but by doing that no one could get in or out."

"That still doesn't explain what you mean."

"Barry and I used to fake big fights, or do things that would get us in trouble so that we would get sent to timeout, because we would be safe there."

"Safe?"

"Safe from Mr. McPherson. He molested Barry and me."

* * *

**I know it's short, but there will be more soon. Please, please, _please_ leave a review because I really want to know what everyone thinks, and to know that someone out there is still reading this. **

**Charlotte  
**


	9. Chapter 8

**Alright, I know that it's been a LONG time since I updated anything, and for that I truly apologize. The only excuse that I have is that the end of school was absolutely crazy, and then I had surgery that took me a while to recover from. I also had a bit of writer's block, but the main problem was just getting into the swing of things after the surgery. I can promise you, though, that the next chapter will be up as soon as I can copy it from my notebook to my computer. I swear. **

**Now, to all of you loyal readers out there, I know that you're probably wracking your brain trying to remember what happened previously. So here's a recap: A set of remains were found in the backyard of a house in Arlington, Virginia. The remains were later identified as those of Barry Finkel, a boy that Brennan was in a foster home with. Hodgins determined from the dirt on the bones that they had been reburied once, but that was the only information that could really be gathered. Booth and Brennan flew to Chicago to try to gather more information Barry, and found that he had supposedly ran away in 1992, and no one had seen him since. He also fought a lot with another boy that in the foster home, James Tiller. Both James, and Barry's foster father Phil McPherson, cannot be located. After talking to the man who took over Barry's case, Booth and Brennan figured out that the man was really James Tiller, and now have him in custody. **

**Now, read on!  
**

* * *

"Molested?" Booth repeated, surprised. Jimmy nodded once, and then just continued to stare down at his hands. The FBI agent looked to the glass, where he knew his partner would be, and then turned back to the man. "Would you excuse me for just a second?" Without waiting for an answer, Booth stood up quickly and exited the room.

He met Brennan in the viewing room. "Did you know about this?"

She shook her head. "Not at all. I never spent that much time with McPherson, when I was there – but then again, I never spent a lot of time with anybody except Jimmy." She shook her head again. "I know I'm not very good at reading people, but I seriously never suspected that…I mean, I never thought that he…" She trailed off, uncertain of what to say.

Booth squeezed her hand. "Well, we'll obviously have to try to corroborate his story – I'll go back and talk to Mary and see if she knew what her husband was doing. You can go in there and talk to him if you want," Booth cocked his head toward the interrogation room. "My gut says he didn't do it, though."

Brennan nodded once more. "Okay. Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"Nope," Booth said with a smile. "I do my best work alone." He added quickly, and then ducked out the door before his partner could protest.

* * *

Temperance Brennan – world renowned forensic anthropologist, who never really had trouble finding anything to say – could not figure out what to say. She had been sitting across from her former foster-sibling for almost ten minutes, and no words were coming to mind. So she was quite grateful when Jimmy spoke up first. "You never really knew how to express your emotions," Jimmy said, with a small smile.

"No," she replied quietly. They sat in silence for a few more seconds, before she finally contributed something to the conversation – although, it wasn't much. "Why?"

"Why what?"

She elaborated. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jimmy heaved a sigh. "You and I are alike, Tempe, in a lot of ways. I wasn't exactly sure how to just come out and tell you that I was being abused – and I think some part of me felt like if I told anyone, it would make it more real. Barry and I, we just kept it to ourselves. When Steven came to the home, it good for Barry and I, because Phil didn't want us anymore." He paused, as his voice broke. "I hated being happy, because I knew what Steven was going through. But at the same time, I couldn't help myself, because I was just so glad it wasn't me anymore." He stopped again, as a sob racked his body. He took a moment to compose himself, before changing the subject; and asking quietly, "Do you remember that night?"

Temperance nodded; she knew exactly what Jimmy was talking about. The night that she had been dreaming about for weeks, the night she had planned to run away. She had stayed just for him. "I remember."

Jimmy gave a small smile. "Thank you, for staying I mean. You were a good friend to me, Tempe."

---

Booth knocked on the door of the McPherson house for a second time, waiting patiently for it to open. Finally, Mary McPherson opened the door. "Hello again, Agent Booth," she said, and then looked around him for his partner. "Where's Tempe?"

"Dr. Brennan is busy at the moment. Do you think I could possibly come in and talk to you for a few moments?"

Mary nodded, looking slightly troubled. "Have you found out what happened to Barry?" She asked as she led him to the room they had spoke in earlier.

"We're getting close, I think. Can we sit?" Mary nodded, and both she and the FBI agent took a seat. "Mary, we found James Tiller, and he told us something quite disturbing about your ex-husband."

She shook her head. "I'm sure that whatever he said is wrong. Phil and I may have had our differences, but he was a good man."

"Well, according to James Tiller, your ex-husband wasn't a good man. In fact, he says that Phil would regularly abuse Barry Finkel, and himself."

Mary immediately shook her head again. "That's not possible. As I said, Phil was a good man. He wouldn't….I'm sure…no. No," she repeated again.

"I'm sorry, Mary. I'm sure this isn't easy to hear. But I need to know if you ever saw or heard anything…"

"I promise you, I didn't." She paused, and then continued. "I'm sorry, Agent Booth. We may have had our differences, but my ex-husband is a good man. I just don't believe he did what you're accusing him of."

Booth could tell that he wasn't going to get any information on the subject of Phil's misdeeds from the woman – she obviously believed what she was saying – but he needed to know one last thing. "I'm sorry to have upset you, Mary, but I have one more question. Have you seen or had any contact with your ex-husband since you divorced?"

"Only once. After he moved back from Seattle, he came by the house to grab a few things that he'd left behind when he moved out. Since then, I haven't heard anything from him."

"Thank you for your time." Booth stood up, shook her hand, and walked out the door.

* * *

Temperance was waiting for her partner outside the FBI building when he pulled up. "Why aren't you inside with Jimmy still?" He asked her when he got up to her.

She shrugged. "We kind of ran out of things to talk about. How many times can you rehash the bad moments you shared, the problems with the foster parents you had, or apologize for leaving, and not seeing what happened sooner?" She shrugged again. "I just couldn't stay in there anymore, so I pretended you needed me, and I left. It was just too much for me."

Booth put his arm around her, and spoke softly in her ear. "I am so sorry, Temperance. I wish that I could do something to change what happened to you, to change your growing up so you could have had your family. If I could, I would make it so you didn't have to live through those awful foster families, and carry those bad memories with you." He knew this case was hurting her, he could see it in her eyes. And now, those same eyes had tears in them.

"I know you would, Booth, I know. And I believe that if you could travel back in time, even though the concept of time travel is completely impossible and could never actually be done, you would do it. But if you changed everything, then I wouldn't be who I am today. And I might not have met you. So that makes it all worth it.

* * *

**The next chapter will be up within the next few days, I promise. And please leave a review to let me know what you think. **

**Charlotte  
**

* * *


	10. Chapter 9

**Well, I did update within a few days, as I promised. :D**

**AN: Nope, still don't own it.  
**

* * *

The partners were looking over files in their hotel room when Brennan's phone rang. "This is Dr. Brennan."

"Hey Sweetie." Angela greeted her. "I'm supposed to call you and let you know what Clark found."

"Why isn't Cam calling?"

"She's sick, and asked that I do it. Anyway, Clark found some indentation on the skull, or something, and he's confirmed that the cause of death was blunt force trauma to the back of the head. So it seems as though Barry didn't see what was coming. Clark also discovered yesterday that there was a spiral fracture to Barry's right wrist, that he thinks probably occurred shortly before death because it didn't show any sign of healing. Clark used some scientific term, but I have no idea what it was." Temperance gave a small laugh, but let Angela continue "Hodgins hasn't been able to find anything else on the remains. So basically the only new information we have is that Barry struggled with someone before his death because the direction of the fracture could have only come from twisting his arm behind his back. And then he was hit in the back of the head with some hard object," Angela finished.

"Okay, thanks Ange. I'll let you know if anything else turns up on our end."

"Cool. And Sweetie?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't bottle up your emotions, and let them eat you. I know that this is really difficult for you, but don't put up your old walls. You've been doing _so _good lately, opening up more. Not just to Booth, but everyone around you. You don't spend as many nights holed up in the lab, you actually go out. I think you actually have gone out with me more than once a year. I'm enjoying this new, more open Brennan. So just promise me you'll not let this make you revert back into your shell, okay?"

Brennan said the first thing that came to her mind. "I don't go out with you more than once a month."

Angela sighed. "Sweetie, that's all you got out of my speech? All I'm saying is that lately you've been good about being more open towards people, and I don't want you to change that just because of this case. Don't close up again."

"That's irrational, Angela. I'm fine."

"Right. I'll talk to you later."

Temperance hung up the phone, and related the information to Booth. "So we know that Barry's death was not premeditated, most likely." Booth said.

Both were silent for a moment before Temperance spoke again. "Angela says I shouldn't 'put up my walls' again. I think she means that I should open up to you about how I'm feeling."

Booth smiled at her. "And how _are _you feeling, Bones?"

Brennan thought about it for a second. "Logically, this case shouldn't have any bearing upon me emotionally. I mean, I didn't even know Barry all that well, and while I was close to Jimmy, I also didn't know him for very long. The fact that Barry is dead, while sad, shouldn't really affect me emotionally." She paused. "But while logically I shouldn't be have a hard time, it does bring back memories of my time in foster care that are…painful for me. But there are more important things to consider right now," she said, changing the subject. "Who do you think killed Barry?"

The FBI agent ran a hand through his hair, and sighed. "I honestly don't know. It doesn't seem like Jimmy had the motive – if what he says is true, Barry was the only thing that protected him from Phil McPherson. So if he is telling the truth, and you never know, then I don't think it was him. What we really need to do is find McPherson, because I think he might have information that might help wrap this up." He paused, and then spoke again. "It does seem odd, though. Child molesters don't usually just stop with two or three boys – they keep going because it's a compulsion. So if Jimmy's story is true, then there should be a trail of victims that follows McPherson everywhere he went."

"Then do you think Jimmy is lying?" Brennan asked him.

"He sounded awfully sincere. Maybe Phil found a way to stop…but that seems awfully unlikely."

They were silent again, until Brennan spoke up again. She reached over and squeezed Booth's hand. "Thank you for helping me, Booth. For believing me that the man was really Jimmy, and for being here for me."

Booth slowly brought her hand up to his lips, and gave her hand a light kiss. "Anytime, Bones, anytime."

* * *

As they were eating dinner a few hours later, Booth's cell phone rang. He flipped it open. "Booth."

"Booth, it's Charlie. We may have had a hit on McPherson. I released the photo that Ms. McPherson gave you to the media. And not just the local stations – I gave it to all the national networks too. You know, just trying to reach anywhere that he could be."

"And?" Booth asked impatiently.

"We got a ton of calls. A few of them weren't legit, but then we hit gold. We had lots of reports of people from people that saw him in the Chicago area, but we already knew that. But the majority of the tips that came in were from the area around Arlington. Apparently, Phil McPherson has been living in Virginia for the last sixteen years or so."

"Any idea where?"

"Well, we got a lot of people calling in that said that they saw him in Arlington from the early nineties to early 2001 or so."

"But we need to find him now."

"Not a problem. We had one guy call in, saying that this guy lived in his apartment building, and had since 2001. Specifically an apartment complex near the Braddock Station in Alexandria."

Booth quickly wrote down the information. "You are the best, Charlie. Thanks." Booth hung up and turned to Temperance. "Good news, Bones. We found McPherson, and we're heading home.

* * *

Their flight touched down not a moment too soon. Booth's face was positively green. Whatever he had eaten at their dinner last night had made him so sick he could barely move. The only way that he had made it through the flight was by keeping a cold towel, kindly supplied by the stewardess, on the back of his neck, and Brennan rubbing soothing circles on his back. "You shouldn't have eaten that fish, Booth. I told you it smelled bad."

Booth took a deep breath as they disembarked the plane. "Please, Bones. Not now. Please just take me home, and do not chide me now."

The cab pulled up to Booth's apartment, and the partners got out. Brennan carried Booth's suitcase, while Booth breathed deeply; trying not to be sick. When they reached his door, he turned to Brennan. "I called Perotta, and told her what was going on. She'll go with you tomorrow to talk to McPherson." He took his bag from her. "And please be careful, Bones."

She rolled her eyes. "Booth, there's no way that I'm going to get in trouble interviewing a witness."

"Bones, you could find trouble anywhere."

She just shook her head. "Are you sure that you don't want me to stay with you? I won't mind."

"Nah, I'll be fine. I'm just going to sleep, and I'll call you in the morning. Okay?"

"Okay." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. She, too, had been more comfortable touching him since their conversation in the office; this was just as comfortable to her. Walking back to the taxi, one thought kept running through her mind: tomorrow was going to be a long day. It was hard enough meeting her foster mother again for the first time in fifteen years, but it was going to be even harder meeting her foster father whom she had just learned was a child molester.

The same thought ran through her mind when she woke up the next morning. She checked her phone, saw that there were no messages from Booth, and then started getting ready. Perotta showed up an hour later, and together they drove out to what was supposed to be Phil McPherson's home.

"So," Perotta started, "Booth said you know the guy?"

"Yes." Brennan stated simply. She did not care to talk about her past with anyone, but it was easier to do so with Booth and Angela – even Sweets. But she had only worked with Agent Perotta a few times, and didn't quite feel comfortable around her yet. However, she figured that it would probably come out in the course of the interview anyway. "He was one of my foster fathers."

"Oh." Perotta was silent for a second. "I didn't know you were in the foster system."

"I was." Brennan's tone brooked no further conversation, and both were silent for the rest of the ride.

Before long, they arrived at a run-down apartment complex. The brownish paint was peeling off the outside of the building, and there was orange spray paint above one of the windows. There was trash piled up around the front door, and Brennan had to step carefully around the rotten tomato on the first step. They entered, and picked their way carefully to the super's office.

Perotta opened the door without knocking, and Brennan was greeted by a heavy set man in an ugly tartan sweater. "Can I help you?" He drawled slowly.

Perotta flashed her badge. "I'm Special Agent Payton Perotta with the FBI, and this is Dr. Temperance Brennan from the Jeffersonian Institute. Do you have a Phil McPherson living here?"

"Yeah, been living here for about…" the man paused to look at a ledger on his desk, "about eight years now. Said he needed somewhere cheap to live because his house was reposed or something like that."

"Fascinating. What's his apartment number?"

"7B. Don't you need a warrant or something?"

"We just want to talk to him, not search the apartment."

"Oh, okay. Well go on up."

The man that opened the door to Perotta's knock barely resembled the man that Temperance remembered. The years had not been kind to Phil McPherson. His face was lined with wrinkles, and his hair was completely grey. But her sympathy for the man was limited, though, because of what he had done to Jimmy and Barry. "Yes?"

Perotta flashed her badge again, and repeated the introductions she had made downstairs.

"Brennan, hmmm?" McPherson rolled the name around for a moment. "Sounds familiar." He thought about it for a second more, perhaps waiting for the doctor to tell him why, but Brennan wasn't going to help him out. "Well, no matter. What can I do for you two?"

"May we come in, Mr. McPherson?" Perotta asked. "There's a few questions that we need to ask you."

"Um…" McPherson looked around the apartment behind him to an area that Brennan could not see. "It would be better if we spoke in the hallway." Brennan's curiosity was peaked, but she chose not to say anything. The man moved into the corridor with the women, and then spoke once more. "What's this about?"

"A set of remains were found in Arlington recently. They were identified by Dr. Brennan as being those of Barry Finkel, a boy in your foster home, correct?"

McPherson sighed. "Ah, yes. Barry did indeed live with Mary – my ex-wife – and I for a while. Until he ran away, that is."

"He didn't run away." Brennan said bluntly. "He died."

"Died? Oh no, that's horrible. Are you positive?"

"Positive. He never left your home of his own choice." She said sharply. Perotta shot her a look and took over the interview.

"Mr. McPherson, where did you go after you left Chicago?"

"I went to Seattle for a year or so, but found that the weather didn't agree with me all that well. Then I moved out here."

"And where did you live before this apartment?"

McPherson shifted around on his feet before answering. "Well, um, I…I, uh, bounced around a bit but didn't live anywhere specific for very long. Why do you need to know this?"

"Barry was murdered, and it seems that after Barry died you left town rather quickly." Brennan said fiercely.

McPherson crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't believe I like what you are insinuating, Dr. Brennan, and I think that if you have any further questions then you can contact my lawyer." He reached into his back pocket, took out his wallet, and pulled out a card. "Here, that's his number. Now, good day." He turned quickly and went back into his apartment.

"Way to go, Dr. Brennan." Perotta said with a sigh. "You should have just let me handle it, and not made him angry – now we won't get anything out of him. What's your beef with him anyway? He didn't seem to know anything."

"He molested two of my foster brothers. Forgive me for not being more concerned with his feelings." She snapped. Inwardly, she felt stupid. She knew that she wasn't being calm or rational right now, but she couldn't help it. She was furious that the man had hurt someone she had once cared about, and had gotten away with it.

"Whoa, really? I guess Booth didn't really give me the full update." The pair walked back down to the car. "When Booth called to tell me what was going on, all he said was that this guy might have some information about the kid's murder. I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan."

"Don't be sorry for me. I wasn't hurt."

Perotta grimaced, forgetting how practical the doctor could be. "Do you think he could have done it? Killed the boy, I mean."

Brennan thought about it for a minute. "There's no evidence that connects him with the crime. In fact, there's relatively no evidence in this case at all. The only thing we know is that the bones were reburied and that the victim struggled with someone before being struck in the head with a blunt instrument. Objectively speaking, it could have been anyone in the household. There is no evidence linking anyone to the murder. Physically, though, Phil McPherson would have been capable of committing the murder, but as I said there's no-"

"No evidence, yeah. I got that part. But do you think he did it?"

"I don't jump to conclusions, Agent Perotta. As I said, the evidence allows for the fact that it could have been anyone."

"Right." Perotta drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. "So basically there's no way for you to tell who killed the boy – without a complete confession – and we are effectively screwed."

Brennan offered Perotta a half-hearted smile. "Effectively, yes."

* * *

Booth's cell phone rang, just as he was drifting off to sleep again. He got out of bed and walked to his dresser where the phone lay. "'Ello?" He mumbled sleepily.

"Special Agent Booth? It's Mary McPherson. Is this a bad time?"

"Umm…" He looked longingly at his bed, but figured it must be important. "No, it's fine."

"Oh, good. Well, after you left, I started thinking about what you said. About suspecting that Phil hurt those boys, I mean. And while I'm not sure that he really did do it, I did remember something that might help you. It seems trivial to me, but I'm not an FBI agent."

"I appreciate the call, Mary. Most people just assume that if it's not important to them, it's not important to the investigation either. But, please, go on."

"Well, the night before Barry ran away, or rather the night before he died I suppose, Barry came to me. He told me that he needed to tell me something very important that concerned Phil, but he had to wait until the next day when Phil was out of the house at work. I thought that was a bit odd, so I asked Phil if he had any idea about what Barry had to tell me, and he said that he didn't know. But for the rest of the night, Phil seemed awfully skittish. I went to bed early that night because of a headache, but I remember because it was usually me who tucked the children in, and it was Phil that did it that night. It was the next morning that we found Barry's note. I always wondered why he had left before telling me whatever was so important." At this point, Booth was wide awake. If his suspicions were correct, then Mary McPherson had just provided him with the motive for Barry's murder that they had been missing. "Does that help you at all?" Mary asked.

"Yes, it helps a lot. Thank you so much." After they hung up, he called Brennan. "Bones, I just got a break in the case."

"Really? That's the best news I've heard all day." He could soft music in the background, and assumed that she was most likely back at the lab.

"I take it your conversation with Phil didn't go too well?"

"No. We got absolutely nothing out of him, except for the fact that we could talk to his lawyer next time. So please, tell me about this break."

Okay. Well, I think I established motive. According to Mary McPherson, Barry had something to tell her the night before he was killed, and that he didn't want to do it with Phil in the house. Probably didn't want him walking in when Barry was telling her about the molestation."

"Mm hmmm."

"So Mary talked to Phil about it, you know because she wanted to know if Phil had any idea what Barry was talking about. He said no, of course, but she said that he acted jumpy for the rest of the night. Phil probably thought that Barry was finally going to rat him out about everything. And the next morning, Barry is gone."

"And Phil wouldn't have wanted something like that to get out." Brennan said.

"He wouldn't have wanted that to come out at all. If it did, then everything would be over for him. He would have at worst – for him – gone to jail, or in the very least all the kids would have been taken away, and their income gone."

Brennan thought about it. "That definitely seems like the strongest motive we've got so far. Mary had no reason to kill him – she loves her kids. Jimmy needed Barry to protect him from Phil, and even though the other kids didn't like him, there wasn't enough animosity to kill him. Phil is the only one who would have benefitted from Barry's death."

"Exactly. So tomorrow we'll pull Phil in for some official questioning."

"You're sure we'll do it tomorrow?" She wanted to get this whole thing wrapped up quickly so that she could move on, and stop thinking about everything from her past. Even though she could compartmentalize, this was still difficult for her.

"If I'm not still puking my guts into the toilet, then we definitely go. We're going to catch this guy, Bones. I promise."

* * *

**I didn't receive many reviews for the last chapter, so I don't know if people just are reading the story, or if they just don't have the time to leave a review. But please, I would _really_ appreciate some feedback**.

**Charlotte**


	11. Chapter 10

**I am truly, deeply, and completely sorry for the delay in this update. I feel completely terrible, but I've started something called the International Baccalaureate program this year in school, and I average about 10 to 11 of homework every night. Which, unfortunately, does not leave me a lot of time for writing. I've finally found the time to write, however (Christmas break really is a marvelous thing), and so the second to last chapter is FINALLY here. I appreciate everyone who has stuck with me, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**A/N: I unfortunately, still can claim no rights to the television show.  
**

* * *

When Booth and Brennan arrived at McPherson's apartment the next morning, the door stood ajar. Booth took his gun out of its holster, and noted that his partner had produced her own firearm. "Stay behind me," Booth said quietly. "I don't need you getting killed, alright?"

"I'm a perfectly good shot," Brennan retorted angrily. "I've never hit anything that I didn't mean to –"

"So you wanted to shoot me in the leg last Halloween?" He whispered back, and then seeing that she was getting ready to launch into what would be, no doubt, a perfectly worded return argument, said "Never mind. Just come on."

Brennan sighed, but nonetheless did as she was told. They worked their way through the apartment, noticing the havoc that had been wreaked in every room. In the living room, a lamp had been overturned, the light bulb shattered on the ground; desk drawers stood open, papers and other objects sprouting out of them; a bookshelf had books torn off of it, laying haphazardly on the ground; and the sofas had been ripped apart, the cushions flung across the room. It looked as though an intense struggle had taken place, and then someone had torn the place apart looking for something. The bedroom was no better – the dresser drawers hung loosely out, the clothes and other articles of clothing ripped from their drawers; the closest stood almost empty.

Brennan moved back out into the main room of the apartment, surveying the damage, while Booth continued to search the rest of the apartment for McPherson. "It's clear!" Booth yelled out to her. Brennan put her gun away, and moved toward a side door that she had not noticed the first time the partners had moved through. She turned the knob, flipped on the light, and gasped. Pictures of little boys covered the walls, all under the age of twelve. A computer sat on at the far end of the room, the internet open to a web page for pedophiles. "Booth!" Temperance called out. "You should see this!"

Her partner came walking back to her, his question of what was so important dying on his lips as he saw what his partner was talking about. He moved past her, further into the room, a look of pure disgust on his face. "This must be why we didn't find a trail of boys behind McPherson," Booth murmured.

"What?" Brennan questioned in confusion.

"We knew that McPherson had molested Barry, Jimmy, and probably Steven too, but couldn't figure out why there wasn't a trail of victims following McPherson wherever he went, but this is why," Booth stated, gesturing at the walls. "He was keeping himself happy," he grimaced at the term, "with pictures. Probably because he didn't want to get into the same trouble he had with Barry. Live victims always cause problems when they stop being compliant."

"Ain't that the truth?" Brennan let out a small shriek, and Booth whirled around to see McPherson holding his partner at knife point. The FBI agent had his gun out immediately and pointing at McPherson's head.

"Drop the knife, McPherson," Booth said fiercely, "and let my partner go."

"Ah, but I really can't do that, can I?" The suspect said lazily. Brennan was struggling against his grasp, but McPherson just pushed the knife further into her throat, until blood started to drip from the wound. "Stay still, you stupid girl. Always causing problems, just like when you lived in my house."

"Drop the knife, McPherson, and we can all leave here peacefully." Booth repeated.

"Now, I just can't believe that. See, the way I look at things, you've pretty much got me caught. I'm sure that by now you've pieced together that I have a certain…weakness, we'll say, and that Barry…well, he just helped me with that weakness."

"You molested him," Brennan hissed angrily, "and Jimmy. You're a monster, and you killed Barry because he finally gathered the courage to tell Mary what you were doing to him."

Phil McPherson narrowed his eyes, and pushed the knife a little farther into Brennan's throat. Booth wanted to do nothing more than shoot him, but every time he moved to get a better shot, Phil moved with him; and with the way the suspect was holding his partner, he couldn't shoot him without shooting Bones too. "So you know why I did it too; you're smarter than I originally gave you credit for. But you're right – I couldn't let Barry tell Mary about what I been doing. Jail just wasn't for me. I killed him, and buried his body out back. I even forged the note, which worked out perfectly, because everyone thought that he was just another runaway. No one ever thought that he was dead, but eventually I realized that I couldn't stay there, not with Mary picking fights all the time. I didn't really think she suspected anything, but I couldn't take the chance. So I dug the kid's body up, and took him with me. Didn't stay in Seattle long enough to rebury him, and so when I starting living in that dump in Arlington, I put him back in the ground. Thought no one would ever find him, and I'd be golden."

Booth advanced towards the criminal, his gun held high. "Just drop the knife. You confessed, so the DA will cut you some sort of deal."

But Phil continued as if he hadn't heard Booth. "When the family took back the house and I moved here, I kept myself occupied, we'll say, with the pictures and the internet. As you said, Mr. FBI Guy, pictures are so much easier than real boys; not so many variables." He gave a quiet laugh, and Brennan could feel the knife pinch her flesh, blood now flowing freely down her neck. "Never thought anyone would figure it out," he murmured quietly. "But now we find ourselves at a stalemate. I have no desire to go to jail, but you sure as hell ain't going to let me leave here." McPherson backed Brennan and himself up to the open door. "Now, I've cleared everything I need to with my landlord, and so there won't be anybody looking for me. My bags are in my car, and I think I'll just take my leave now." With that, he pushed the knife far enough into Brennan's throat to barely knick the jugular, threw her to the ground, and started for the door.

Booth paused unsure of what to do. His first instinct was to rush to Brennan's side, but he also knew that if he did, McPherson would flee and most likely be gone forever – he had managed to stay underground and control his impulses for over fifteen years, and there was little doubt that he could do so again. Brennan made his decision for him though. "Go, Booth." She said quietly. "I'm fine."

With one more glance at his partner and the blood, Booth rushed out the door behind McPherson. "Freeze, McPherson!" He yelled, gun raised. Phillip turned around, knife still in hand.

"I told you I can't do that." He started to bring his arm back in preparation, Booth knew, to throw the knife in his direction. Unwilling to let him do it, Booth let off one shot that hit McPherson in the shoulder. The killer dropped to the ground, both hands now over his bleeding shoulder. "You son of a bitch," McPherson growled. "You shot me." Booth just shrugged, and pulled out his handcuffs. He hauled the suspect into a sitting position, cuffed him, and pulled him back to the apartment. After making sure McPherson wasn't going anywhere, he pulled open his phone, and dialed Charlie's number.

"I need a bus at McPherson's apartment." After getting assurance that an ambulance was coming, Booth hung up and rushed back to his partner's side. "Just hang on, Bones."

Brennan rolled her eyes, and simply continued applying pressure to her wound. "I'm fine, Booth, really. Just a little light headed." Seeing his look of disbelief, she added, "I've lost more blood before."

Booth just sighed, and placed a quick kiss to his partner's forehead, and then to her lips. "For some reason, I don't find that very comforting."

* * *

After the ambulance had taken McPherson away to the hospital, and EMTs patched Temperance up the partners drove back to the Jeffersonian to finish their paperwork together. Angela spent plenty of time fussing over her friend, Hodgins simply gave her a hug and asked how she was doing, and Cam merely noted the not-so-subtle kisses Booth would place on the top of Brennan's head.

"What does this mean for McPherson?" Angela asked later, as the group sat on the upstairs balcony of the Jeffersonian drinking coffee.

"Well, he'll be charged with murder and aggravated assault. With the confession and the evidence that we have, he'll go away for life," Booth replied quietly.

"That's good."

There was silence for a moment or two, until Brennan put her mug down and stood up. "I'm going back to work; there's a body from storage that needs to be looked at." After her abrupt departure, Angela shot Booth a look, clearly saying, _Something's up. Who should check on her?_

"I'll go," Booth said. He walked down to her office and found her sitting on her couch, quietly crying.

"Bones," he said from the doorway, "what's wrong?" When he received no answer, he proceeded to sit down and hug her. "Talk to me. Don't put your walls back up."

"It's ridiculous that it's affecting me in this way, but I…" She wiped her eyes, and scooted closer to Booth, her partner in work and – as she knew now – in life. "It's just not fair. None of this makes any difference."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing changes," she lamented. "Barry, Jimmy, Steven, even Mary – all of their lives were irreparably damaged because of this man! Barry, he was murdered because he was going to stand up for himself; Jimmy felt the need to disappear and become someone else because he was so scared of Philip McPherson and what he could do; no one knows how it really affected Steven, but it _had _to because no one goes through being molested without some devastating affects; and Mary lost her husband because he was a monster! Even I, of all people, could see the sadness in her eyes." She sighed. "And Philip McPherson going to jail for the rest of his life doesn't solve_ anything!_ Barry's still dead, Jimmy is still different, and Mary is still sad. Out of anybody, he's getting off the easiest, and it's just not fair." A few more tears rolled down her cheek, and Booth wiped them away. Then, kissing her gently, he spoke.

"Catching the bad guy never does change anything, you know that Temperance. We never are able to bring the victims back to life. But regardless of that, McPherson going to jail _helps_. Now Mary knows that she didn't drive her husband away, and she knows what happened to Barry wasn't her fault. She can stop blaming herself and start to heal and move on. That helps. Jimmy can stop living in fear and start to move on as well because his secret is finally out. That helps. And wherever he is, Barry knows that you got him justice. Nothing can ever change what happened, but knowing that the killed got what he deserves helps. That's all we can do."

Temperance nodded, and looked up at Booth. "You're a good man, Seeley. I'm grateful to have you in my life." She kissed him, long and hard. "And I'm grateful that you always will be."

* * *

**The next chapter will be the epilogue. Please review to let me know what you think! **

**Charlotte  
**


	12. Epiloge

**Well, this is it. :) I hope you guys have enjoyed the story (even with the long delays). I don't know when I'll be posting again, but until then au revoir! **

* * *

That night, Temperance Brennan dreamed of Barry Finkel.

Seventeen year old Temperance Brennan carefully placed her clothes into an empty suitcase. She had received news just that morning that her grandfather – a grandfather she never knew existed – was coming to get her out of foster care. Mary had told her to start packing because her new guardian was coming in a few hours, but the task wasn't that difficult. Temperance didn't have many things, and the few valuables that she did have were still packed away in a duffle bag from when she arrived. She looked around her room, feeling nothing but excitement at the prospect of leaving foster care once and for all. It was good, she thought, that Jimmy had stopped her from running away when she did, or else she would have never gotten a chance at family.

She had just placed her last shirt into the suitcase when she heard a knock on her door. "Come in," she called. Turning around, she saw a flash of red hair as her foster brother, Barry Finkel, entered the room quickly. She stood looking at him, waiting for him to tell her why he was there. After a few seconds, she rolled her eyes, and said impatiently, "Yes, Barry?"

"Temperance, Mary told me you're leaving." The young boy stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes." She didn't feel the need to explain to him, of all people, but Barry wouldn't drop it.

"Why?" _He's so nosy,_ Brennan thought in annoyance.

"My grandfather is coming to get me." She said quickly and firmly, hoping that Barry would just go away. "Is there something you need?"

In reality, Barry had told her that he was "staking a claim to your room, Temperance, and I would greatly appreciate it if you would tell Mary that you are willing it to me." Temperance had calmly told him to leave her alone, chased him out of the room, and shut the door behind her. But this time, Barry had something to say.

"Thank you."

"What?" Her seventeen year old self said. Then, everything morphed, and she was standing in the Jeffersonian with Barry in her current form.

"Thank you." Barry repeated, walking forward. The small boy gave his former foster sister a big hug "You solved it. No one ever knew what really happened to me, but you figured it out. So thanks. It helps to know that Mr. McPherson is at least getting some punishment for what he did to me. It helps a lot."

Temperance opened her mouth to speak, but something startled her and she awoke from her sleep. She sat in bed for a few moments, mulling over her dream. Logically, she knew that dreams didn't mean anything and were simply a way for her brain to exercise. She knew that this was simply a manifestation of what Booth had told her earlier in the day. However, as she lay back down, she couldn't help but feel comforted, and drifted off with a smile on her face.

* * *

**Charlotte**


End file.
